


Epithalamion

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Nancy Drew Files, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Wedding Night, Weddings, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned's wedding day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epithalamion

"What the hell am I doing, Bess?"

Just after midnight. Nancy was huddled under the paper towel dispenser in the deserted girls' bathroom at the club, legs straight ahead of her, with Bess kneeling next to her.

"What do you mean?"

Nancy wiped at her wet eyes with the heels of her hands. Her stomach was churning. She shot a withering look at Bess.

"Okay," Bess sighed. "Stupid question. You can't tell me you have cold feet, Nan. Ned is the greatest guy ever."

"But this is the rest of my life," Nancy moaned. She tried unsuccessfully to push herself up, until Bess tried to help, and then they both ended up sprawled on the floor, just as a group of slender, tube-topped girls sidled in, walking unsteadily themselves. Nancy and Bess took one look at each other and started laughing, ignoring the disapproving glances of the other girls.

"Hey— hey, Nan didn't get sick, did she?"

George, peeking through the partially open door, finally looked down and caught sight of the two of them. "Okay, that's it, no more drinks," she decreed, walking in and extending a hand to each of them. "Now get up. I don't even want to think about what's been on that floor."

Nancy's smile froze on her face, and she glanced down at the age-grimed tile. "Oh God," she pronounced, and started scrambling.

Five minutes later she pushed open the door of the stall, returning glares to Bess and George's only partially concerned glances. "Okay."

"You feeling any better?"

Nancy shrugged, rinsing her mouth out. "Can we not do anything else on the list?"

Bess knit her delicate brows. "It was just for fun," she said, glancing between her cousin and best friend. "We don't have to do it anymore."

George got a wicked gleam in her eye. "If you make me a deal."

Two minutes later George walked out of the bathroom in the plastic and tulle headpiece and the pink "Bride to Be!" sash, while Nancy and Bess smothered their laughter. "She looks so happy," Nancy said, leaning against the wall.

"Who'd have thought," Bess chuckled, turning off her camera and putting it back in her purse. "You know, she was pushing hard for the most insane list we could find. Now I see why."

They headed back out, to their table, Nancy basking in her newfound anonymity, when a guy at the bar grabbed her. "Didn't I buy you a drink?"

"And now she wants one," Nancy said sweetly, twisting easily out of his grasp and shoving Bess in her place. Her best friend already wore a winning grin.

Back at the table, alone, Nancy propped her chin in her hand and stared out at the dance floor, unseeing. She still wanted to talk about it, but now hardly seemed like the opportune time. She thought of how many things she had avoided doing on the list, and wondered which lucky guy would get George's drunken lap dance.

More than anything else, she wondered what Ned was doing right then, and whether he felt the same way she did.

\--

The first one, Ned had to admit, had been nice. A little risky. His brothers had kept buying him rounds, and by the time he was pretty well smashed, a lap dance had seemed like a good idea.

By the fourth, it was getting old.

Ned glanced at his watch, while the hooker shoving her breasts in his face pouted and redoubled her efforts. He put his hand on her side, keeping from as many of her erogenous zones as he could, and shoved her back gently.

"It's not that I don't think you're fantastic," he said. "But do you see that guy over there? I'll give you this," he reached into his pocket and folded a bill lengthwise, scissoring it between his fingers, "if you go finish with him."

Once he was, momentarily at least, hooker-free, he looked over at Mike, who was standing guard over Ned's cell phone. Mike caught his glance and shook his head. "No."

"Just one?"

Mike smiled. "Look, Nickerson, you don't want to know what she's doing now, trust me. And you don't want her knowing what you're doing."

Ned shrugged. "I'm gonna go get some air."

While he was pushing through the crowd of people at the bar on the way out, Ned checked his watch again. An hour until last call. An hour until they loaded into a convoy of taxis and probably crashed on the floor of some cheap hotel room. Ned wanted his own bed, and enough time alone with his phone that he could have an actual conversation with Nancy, long enough to convince her that maybe they should have one of their chaste little sleepovers, the last of their relationship.

He could actually, literally, feel time passing. It was an unusual feeling. When Nancy had been poisoned he had felt it like an ugly terrified clawed thing under his skin. When he had proposed to her, he had acutely felt every second of hesitation before her answer.

It was now, as of about an hour ago, actually, finally, today. Today. She'd be standing in front of him in her pure-white dress at the altar. She would belong to him for the rest of her life.

The thought of it scared him, almost as much as the thought of their wedding night... did the opposite of frighten him. He was ready for that. He had been ready for it for years. 

The morning after, all the mornings after, those scared him. The mornings when he wouldn't know where she was, when he would wake up cold because she stole all the blankets, when he would wake up beside her not filled with wonder and adoration for her anymore.

"There are how many naked girls in there and I find you out here?"

Ned caught his breath and turned, then laughed when he saw Mike standing there, toying with his cell phone. "I've done this enough times," Ned said, crossing his arms. "Long as there are enough drinks, no one actually cares how I'm doing."

"You're right," Mike admitted. "Except me. Being best man kind of demands it. I need to make sure you are in imminent danger of contracting a social disease, my boy."

"I think if I haven't by now, you're probably out of luck."

Mike smiled. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

Ned blew out a long breath. "I don't know what I'm getting," he admitted. "For so long I didn't have to think about it, and now... it's only in a few hours. A few damn hours."

Mike nodded. "Every Saturday night, you'll have to ask permission if you want to go out. You'll have to actually load the dishwasher. And take the trash out."

"I couldn't care less about that."

"Really?"

Mike looked skeptical, and Ned made a halfhearted grab for his phone, which Mike eluded easily. "Come on. If you're going to lie to me, you get to buy another round of shots."

"I'm not lying," Ned protested, following his friend back inside.

\--

Bess flipped on the overhead fan and Nancy flopped back onto the couch, kicking her shoes off without paying any attention to where they were falling. "I should be in bed," she groaned.

"No, George should be in bed," Bess said, raising her voice at the end. They could hear George cracking the ice tray in the kitchen. "And not making herself another drink!"

"Oh come on," George drawled, happily. "It tastes like water!"

Bess glanced over at the kitchen, then furrowed her brow at Nancy. "I'll be right back, I swear," Bess said, pushing herself to her feet. "I just have to wrestle the vodka bottle away from my cousin."

"Go," Nancy laughed, without smiling. While George continued her loud protests, Nancy looked up at the ceiling, then averted her eyes. Watching the fan would only end badly.

"Okay, so," Bess said when she walked back into the living room five minutes later, having escorted George back to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and settled indian-style in front of the couch. "You got really quiet, for a while."

Nancy folded her hands under her head. "I keep thinking that we'll get to that part where the preacher asks if anyone has any objection to our being married, and the doors of the church will fly open, and..."

"And what?" Bess prompted, sliding her bangles off.

Nancy shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted, keeping her gaze steady on Bess. "Or that we'll get to that part in the ceremony and he will have forgotten the ring. Or that when it comes time for him to say 'I do,' he'll just..."

"Not?" Bess suggested, when Nancy trailed off again. "The rehearsal went without a single hitch. It's really not that hard. They do everything for you. Follow us in, listen to the minister, repeat after him. Very easy. There won't be any sudden declarations that you two can't get married because he secretly has a long-lost crazy wife. This isn't some Gothic melodrama, Nan. And besides, I'll make sure they lock the doors."

Nancy forced a smile. "And if we get up there, and he just can't make himself say it? What if I get up there..."

Bess patted her friend on the shoulder. "Well, I bet you didn't know this, but part of the maid of honor's responsibility has always been to step in, if the bride can't do something. So, let me be your sacrificial lamb. If you find yourself speechless and unable to commit to Ned for the rest of your life, just step to the side. I will take one for the team." She clasped her hand to her chest, dramatically, her lips twitching in a smile.

"How comforting," Nancy said dryly, smiling herself when she imagined letting Ned marry someone else instead. "If we were wearing heavy enough veils it would be positively Biblical."

"What did you do with those last few drinks I gave you, give them to George?" Bess said, eyeing her suspiciously. "You are using way too many big words to have taken them yourself."

Nancy rubbed her eyes, grimacing when she saw mascara on her hands. "I don't want to look like shit in the morning."

"Baby, I can work miracles. And if anyone needs another drink, it's you." She started to push herself up.

"No," Nancy insisted. "Really. See? Totally fine. We have a really early start tomorrow, so let's just get to sleep."

Bess tapped her chin. "Well, if you're that worried about looking great, and you have so little confidence in me, that's it. We're doing a mud mask on you."

Despite her protests, Bess scurried off to rummage through her bathroom, and Nancy rolled onto her back, sighing. Mud mask. She glanced over at her purse, wondering if Bess had returned her cell phone yet, if... No, she told herself sternly. She'd be seeing Ned in a few hours anyway.

She'd be seeing a lot of Ned in a few hours.

She shivered. Bess's lingerie party meant that she had almost too much to choose from; she hadn't decided yet. She was having a hard enough time not jumping out of her skin at just the thought of walking down the aisle to him.

"Pore refining," Bess announced, as she swept back into the room. "Perfect. You'll look good as new in the morning."

\--

Ned couldn't sleep. He turned over, grimacing when his elbow slid off the couch, nearly resulting in a hard crash to the floor. When they had first arrived, Mike had happily babbled something about this house belonging to a fellow Omega Chi, but Ned had also been happily drunk, or at least far more buzzed than this, and it hadn't really mattered. Now the heady slur of the scotch had worn off.

He felt nervous as hell. His stomach wouldn't stop churning. And he could feel the absence of his cell phone, of his line to Nancy, like a phantom limb.

He sighed irritably and rolled off the couch, straightening slowly, to keep the room from spinning. Mike had tossed his coat over the back of the couch. Ned found his cell phone, cool and blank, in the inside pocket. He flipped it open immediately, stabbing the power button with his thumb.

Low battery, the welcome screen told him, and Ned groaned as he headed back to the couch. Besides, what could he say?

His vows, he remembered suddenly. He was not going to remember his vows.

"Shit," he hissed, digging through his own jeans, his similarly discarded coat, before he stopped suddenly, because he could see clearly, in his mind's eye, the slightly crumpled, folded, ragged-edged sheet of notebook paper, on his dresser. Where he had put it after pulling it from his jeans pocket and throwing his pants into the wash basket.

He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his fists, pressed them against his eyelids, and thought hard, but he was tired, and nervous. Mike had sworn a thousand times that Ned had nothing to be nervous about.

Ned had felt this way right before he'd asked her out for the first time. He'd felt it even more in the time just after he'd met her, when he'd known that she would definitely be worth the pursuit, and had spent the intervening time in a horror of anticipation, knowing that once he finally did manage to get her alone, he'd find out that she had a boyfriend, or, even worse, that she just wasn't interested in him, not that way.

He could see her, standing in front of him, in the church, and the pastor would be in the middle of some verse about the selflessness and purity of love, when the doors would bang open, and everyone in the pews would turn to see, because that would be more important. And they would all teem in, heads down on their short necks, eyes blazing, fists clenched, the army of men she had shared what she swore was a casual flirtation or a meaningless kiss with. Then the audience, the sea of people they had invited, sending them each a personalized silver-on-bone-white card Nancy had picked out herself and Ned had distractedly nodded in agreement with, all those people would turn one-by-one back to face them and cluck in sympathy, and Nancy would get that look on her face, the helpless, this is out of my control, look, and shrug a little.

But the force of his rage would be like a bubble none of them could penetrate.

Letting out a disgusted sigh, Ned fell onto his side, staring out at the unfamiliar scenery in back of the house. The night was blue and clear. He'd never been able to find that cigarette he'd been craving.

"Not gonna happen," he said, his voice swallowed in the overwhelming silence. "Everything will be fine."

He punched the couch cushion and turned over, the soles of his feet pressed hard against the opposite arm, and told himself not to call her, until the chant of it lulled him into something that was almost like, but nowhere near as restful as, sleep.

\--

"Starbucks?"

Hannah's tone was rebuking. Bess, who was carrying the tray of lattes and cappuccinos, put it down on the kitchen table with an apologetic look on her face. "We had to have something," she explained, as Nancy and George followed her in to Carson's house.

"And what were you three up to last night that you need triple shots of espresso?" Carson asked as he entered the kitchen, knotting his tie. Nancy looked up, warily, but relaxed when she saw the twinkle in her father's eye.

"Having the last fun night of our lives."

Carson chuckled. "Being married isn't that bad."

"Yeah," Nancy replied, unconvinced. "I feel like I've had twenty minutes of sleep. Hannah?"

"I need to get over to the church in about half an hour. I'll have the stuff to make sandwiches, before, so you girls just come over around then."

"You don't need us now?"

"To do what?" Hannah replied, swiping at the countertop with a towel one last time. "The floral arrangements are set up, the catering won't be until later... your dress is already there."

"We need to paint your nails and make a final decision on the jewelry," Bess chimed in seriously, while George attempted to drink her entire coffee in one sip.

"I thought you were going to wear the pearls," Carson said mildly, shaking his newspaper out.

"Ugh," Nancy said, burying her face in her hands. "Okay, look, how about I go back to bed for an hour and then take a shower and then we can get started on all this?"

"We're going to have to make another Starbucks run anyway," Bess sighed.

\--

When Ned walked through the front door at his parents' house, his head still aching, he counted ten relatives before he gave up. Everyone in the entire house seemed to be beaming at him, holding mismatched coffee cups. He finally found his mother in the kitchen, putting another batch of biscuits into the oven. His father was on the back porch, smoking a cigar of all things, talking to two of Ned's uncles.

Ned made it through the crowd with minimal conversation and shut the door of his bedroom, then closed his eyes.

In all reality, he'd stopped living here when he'd left for college. Nothing on the walls had really changed; most of his stuff was already at the apartment he and Nancy were going to move into when they came back from their honeymoon. Still, at least here he could relax.

Until he heard a knock at the door.

"So we need to be at the church at lunch to do the pictures?" his mother asked brightly when he answered.

"Um..." Pictures. Nancy had made a thousand decisions, and he had been content to let her, because he couldn't care less what color Bess and George wore or whether they lit a unity candle. "Yeah. We need to be at the church after lunch to get the pictures made, I need to be dressed by then. Yeah."

"And you have the license."

"Yeah. It's..." He snatched the paper off his dresser. "With my vows. God."

His mother stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "Still planning on writing them yourself?"

"They're written." He looked down at the unfolded sheet of paper. "They're ready. I just have to get them in my head before I go up to the altar."

His mother smiled. "Your father wanted to write his own vows," she said. "In the end, he wrote them on the palm of his left hand, and when he put the ring on me he was so nervous and his palm was damp, and he got ink on me."

Ned held back a laugh. "Is that what you suggest?"

She shrugged. "Well, it worked," she replied. "Although, to be honest, all that matters is that you tell the truth up there, not what you think she wants to hear."

"I kind of wanted to do both," he said, only half-joking.

"I'll put a Sharpie in my purse just in case," she told him, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Then she left.

Ned sat down on the edge of his bed and read over his vows a few times, then closed his eyes, and the panic behind them felt like a thousand recitation tests. His personality and his years with Nancy meant that he had no problem standing up in front of a crowd and practically, or totally, making a fool of himself. But here, he'd be standing in front of a church full of their relatives, with her father standing well within decking distance...

Ned let himself fall backward, the sheet loose on his chest, and closed his eyes. "Nan," he mumbled. He was impatient, almost irrationally so, to see her, to talk to her, but if her house was anywhere near as busy as his at the moment, she wouldn't be able to talk. And he'd be seeing her in a few hours, anyway.

He picked up the sheet, smoothed it out, and held it in front of his face. It had all sounded so clever when he'd written it, and witty, but in a way that only she and maybe Bess and George would understand. But it wasn't a promise for how things would be, it was just a recitation of how things had been, and how he had always wanted them to remain.

And the girl who was almost his wife was nothing, if not unpredictable.

Ned sighed and turned on his side, looking at the picture of her on his bedside table, her straight white teeth and that mischievous gleam in her eye, and smiled.

\--

"God," Nancy announced, frustrated, then clapped her hand over her mouth. This part of the church was still, and her voice hung like blasphemy in the air.

Bess stepped back, away from her, her mouth a thin tight line. She waited a moment before forcing out, "Okay, so, how do you want it done?"

Nancy raked a hand through her half-tousled curls, then tossed her head. "We can't just start over, we don't have enough time," she moaned, glancing at her watch. "Can you just pin it half-up and maybe we can figure something else out before the ceremony?"

"Yeah," Bess exhaled, digging in her kit for another mouthful of bobby pins. She already wore her metallic sheath of a dress, clinging to all her curves, and even though her own hair looked effortless, Nancy knew just how much effort it had taken. George had run a brush through her hair and called it good. George was also almost visibly shaking from the amount of caffeine in her system. Bess had practically tied her to a chair for just the lightest application of mascara and lipstick.

Nancy tapped her fingertips on the vanity, stopping the nervous movement when she caught Bess's slice of a glare. All their tempers were short. Everything had seemed so much more comfortable this morning. She had stretched gloriously after her nap, light headache pounding at the front of her skull to remind her that no matter how conscientious she'd tried to be, she still shouldn't have had all those shots. From the second she'd climbed out of the shower, she'd felt half an hour behind. Tempers had only frayed, since.

Bess sprayed on another layer of hairspray, then sat back, considering. "Veil?"

Nancy turned her head to inspect her profile. "Veil," she agreed, fighting the urge to touch her hair. "Thanks, Bess."

Bess smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she lowered the headpiece. "Sure," she replied. "And don't think I won't expect anything less of you when I get married."

"I can't say it'd be an even trade." Nancy touched her pearls. "Besides, at least you have a mother."

"You do too," Bess replied, fussing over the veil. "And she'd be here right now, if not for all that food she has going in the kitchen."

Nancy smiled up at Bess. "All right," she said, picking up her skirt to slide her pink-polished toes into her heels. "Let's go."

\--

She was standing at the front of the church, with her back to him. The overheads were still off, but the sanctuary was filled with slices of stained-glass light and the room was perfectly still, the quiet swallowing their voices as Nancy talked something over with Bess, the photographer with her hip jutting out and her bulky camera standing to one side.

Without his making a sound, she turned, as though moved by force of his stare alone, then did a double take, turning fully to face him. He felt like he hadn't seen her in months. Her smile was the same as his, ridiculous, relieved, demanding all his attention.

"Ned," she murmured, picking up her skirts, and he met her halfway, swinging her up into his arms and kissing her until she was breathless. The scent of her was unfamiliar, sandalwood and linen, and he could feel her nails at the back of his neck, the brush of her lashes as she lazily opened her eyes to stare into his. Distantly he could hear Bess saying something through gritted teeth about makeup. He let his gaze linger on her lips, which were perfect, or had been perfect until he kissed her. He shrugged and kissed her slowly, lingering, twice, again.

"That's perfect, you two."

The photographer swirled around them, flashbulb going off, and Ned smiled at his fiancee. "I've been waiting all day to see you."

"Yeah," she whispered in agreement, that smile still on her face, the cool backs of her fingers stroking his temple. "It's strange to miss someone this much, isn't it."

"I kept just wanting to talk to you," he admitted.

"Me too," she said, wonder in her voice. "I knew I'd feel better if I could just talk to you."

"Okay, you two, we have a schedule," Bess said, and they turned to look at her, Nancy still warm and up in his arms, and Ned put her down carefully. Some parts of him were apparently a few hours ahead, and ready to jump the gun.

The picture-taking was boring quickly. Bess had her own ideas and kept making suggestions to the photographer. Ned finally just started tuning them both out, and if Bess actually managed to draw the poor girl into conversation, he and Nancy would just stare at each other, speechless, and his heart would start to race. He knew she was the one, he had known it for the entire time he'd known her. He felt like he was approaching a waterfall at breakneck speed and if he could just get over it without killing himself, he'd be fine at the other end.

"I love you."

She smiled. "I know you do," she murmured back, ignoring the conversation in front of them.

"It's just, in a while, when we do our vows, I just... I want you to know that."

"You're going to ad-lib, aren't you."

"And what would be so wrong with that?" he teased her, reaching up to run his fingertip down the curve of her ear.

Nancy shrugged. "I had so much to drink last night that I'll be surprised if I can remember anything."

"Me too," he said. "I never thought lap dances would get old."

She smacked him hard on the arm, with the hand not holding the bouquet. "Maybe it's better you didn't call me last night," she shot back. "Ooooh. I hope you enjoyed it."

She was facing forward again, her profile to him, and he leaned forward and brought his mouth very close to her ear to whisper, "Not nearly as much as I'm going to enjoy tonight."

Despite herself, she closed her eyes and shivered in her dress, and he smiled.

\--

Her wedding march was traditional. Everything was traditional. Bess had dragged her back to the dressing room to reapply her lipstick for the fourth time, and as the music began the three of them, Nancy, Bess, and George, stood in the alcove, waiting for their cues. Carson was just watching them, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Is everything okay?" Nancy asked Bess one last time, frantic, stage-whispering. "Is the bow straight?"

Bess leaned back, then nodded firmly. "Everything's fine," she hissed. "We're going to be fine."

George, responding to her cue, slipped out, and Bess followed, shooting a reassuring smile at Nancy before she went. Leaving Nancy alone with her father. The nausea and panic that had been rising in her since the music had come on reached its peak, and Nancy went pale under her makeup.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Of what, honey?"

Nancy shook her head. "I don't know."

"I was so scared on the day I married your mother that by the time she came to the altar, my knees were shaking," he chuckled. "We got through it somehow. You're going to be fine."

"Yeah," Nancy nodded, then caught the wedding director's impatient motion for her to start her march. "Okay. Okay. It's just Ned. It's not like I'll be saying anything to him that I haven't said a thousand times before." She blew out a long breath. "Listen, if I faint, don't let Bess marry him, okay?"

"I won't," Carson promised, laughing. "We'll try to get you conscious again before we marry Ned off."

Hannah's eyes were already gleaming, but there was a sea of faces around Nancy as she began her long walk down the aisle, over the scattered rose petals. She smiled vaguely at everyone, until she saw Ned, and she felt all her perception shrink to just him, just the quiet nervous smile on his face, the way he kept shifting his weight, the glow that she could swear came over him as soon as he saw her. She was floating. She couldn't get to Ned fast enough.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?"

"I do," Carson answered, handing his daughter over, and Nancy couldn't help but look back at him over her shoulder. He was visibly moved, but he gave her one last small smile as he stepped back.

"We are gathered here..."

The words were familiar. Nancy had been to far too many weddings in her life, those of school friends and college friends, and during the rehearsal she had paid attention, feeling very bright and unreal, as though she was hallucinating all of it. Surely none of it was true.

Ned. Sweet, handsome, incredibly sexy Ned was about to become her husband, for the rest of their lives. She glanced up at him, and her heart was pounding and he looked nervous, too, but he squeezed her hand just a little and she felt her knees almost buckle under the full sweep of her skirt.

The minister was quoting scripture, and then saying something about how Ned was going to say his own vows. Nancy smiled, and turned to him, and then he looked down at her and it was like nothing on earth existed but him.

\--

Ned cleared his throat. Nancy was gazing up at him, a look of calm adoration on her face that he usually saw only in the middle of one of their marathon makeout sessions, not in front of other people, and certainly not that often. On average she was usually a thousand miles away in her head. For the past week he had been seeing her as she was, right in front of him, all her attention on him, and he had wanted it, craved it again the day before, craved feeling like he was at the center of her universe. Every single second of it felt amazing. He wished he could bottle it, because he knew it wouldn't last forever. Maybe a day was long enough.

Then he saw the gleam in her eyes when her gaze shifted, and he almost broke down, right there.

"I take you to be my wife," he said. "I choose you, above all others, leaving all others behind, because I love you and I know that there is not another single person on this earth who can make me as happy and at peace as you do. No matter what happens, no matter what mistakes we make, even if we live another seventy-five years I promise I will never leave you. As long as I'm alive, every morning you will wake up knowing how much I love you."

She grinned at him, a faint blush rising in her cheeks as she barely ducked her head, then met his gaze again.

"Nancy?"

"You're my other half," she said, her fingers tightening on his. "You're my better half. Without you I'm lost, without you I would be lost, and I will never leave you because that would be like losing a piece of myself. For as long as I can, with every day I'm able, I want to make you happy, because you above all others are the only one who ever could. The rest of my life, no matter what, I'm going to love you, until my last breath, and I want you to know that, every second of every day."

"The rings?"

Ned let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding and smiled at her in relief before turning to his best man for the ring. He watched her slide her engagement ring onto her thumb before she turned back to him.

"With this ring, I thee wed," he repeated after the pastor, his gaze rising back to hers, and her eyes were wet. Her voice shook when she repeated his words, her fingers warm on his.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

He picked her up for their kiss, and the entire congregation cheered.

\--

"If you shove cake in my face I'll murder you."

Everyone was watching them, so Nancy said it out of the corner of her mouth. Ned, conscious that the formal pictures were done and he could at least relax a little, had unknotted his tie. He kept glancing down at the ring on his finger.

"No you wouldn't."

"Yes I would," she insisted. Then she tucked her arm more tightly in his. "You want to keep me happy today," she purred, leaning in close to him, and chuckled at the expression on his face.

"Yes I do," he said firmly, taking the fork. "Yes I do."

She didn't actually want any champagne. She could still feel that small knot of nausea, the one that kept rising when she moved too fast or had an attack of nerves, but the champagne was very good, purchased by her father, and so she had a glass for the toasts, as the best man winked at her during his and her own father told a story from her childhood, her first "detecting" adventure, that everyone in River Heights had heard at least twice.

"You totally killed me with your vows."

She pulled back a little to look at him, out on the dance floor, but he was smiling and she returned it. "In a good way?"

"Made me look like a total jackass," he said, keeping his voice low and that same smile on his face. "I knew we should have compared notes."

"But you made me cry when you said yours."

"The unflappable Nancy Drew," Ned mused, shaking his head, as they did a slow turn. "It was all true, you know."

She nodded. "Everything I said was true."

"It just wasn't everything."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I'd kill anyone who ever hurt you," he whispered, bringing his mouth close to her ear, and despite herself she closed her eyes and shivered at the way his lips brushed her skin. "I'd worship you if I could, I would spend every second of every day with you, and I love you so much that without you, nothing would be worth it anymore."

"Now I feel like a jackass," she said, pulling him to her so she could kiss him, slowly. "I never wanted to love you this much. I feel so helpless."

He nodded. "Me too."

\--

She was drinking one last flute of champagne before they left, and he was kneeling at her knee, tugging down the garter, taking as long as he possibly could, sliding his fingers with tantalizing slowness down the inside of her thigh. She giggled as his frat brothers whistled and hooted, and when he finally pulled it over her white shoe she grabbed him by the ends of his tie and pulled his head to hers for a long hard promise of a kiss.

"All right, you guys," he called, and they all put their hands up as one just as he flicked it off into the crowd. A host of bridesmaids and semi-embarrassed looking relatives was lining up behind Nancy, who stood with her bouquet poised. He flashed her a grin and she tossed it hard, and one of Ned's preteen cousins emerged with a large braces-gridded grin on her face and the bouquet clutched tight in her hand.

"Are we going now?"

She blinked up at him, and even though the champagne had been very good, Ned knew he hadn't had as much as she, but when she was like this she was very attentive and loving, so he gently took the flute out of her hand and put it on a table. "Yes, we're going now," he replied. "If you're ready."

She kissed his cheek softly, her lips lingering on his skin. "I think I'm ready."

Bess grabbed her when they were almost out the door and whispered things into her ear, keeping her sparkling gaze on Ned the entire time. Ned started feeling impatient when Nancy looked back at him and laughed.

"I expect to see you two when you get back."

Ned gulped as his father-in-law stepped directly into his line of view, swiftly cutting off any thought of the man's daughter. "We'll come straight over."

Carson grinned broadly and clapped Ned on the shoulder. "I mean for dinner every now and then. Enjoy yourselves." Carson leaned in. "And if you hurt her I will break both your legs. For starters."

Then he headed off into the crowd and Ned stared after him mutely, jumping when Nancy unexpectedly linked her arm through his.

"I think Bess said the limo's out front," Nancy said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "Something about bubbles. Maybe we can take some champagne with us?"

"Sure," Ned agreed, still distracted. "Um, sure. We'll do that."

\--

_I shouldn't have had all that,_ Nancy thought to herself, resting the heels of her hands on the cool marble countertop as she peered into her own reflected face. She'd had a few of Hannah's mini-quiches to soak up some of the alcohol, but champagne just tasted so damn good, and she was married. It was impossible, unthinkable. George had thoughtfully decorated Nancy's car in silly string and inflated condoms, and Bess had somehow managed to smuggle at least ten nightgowns into Nancy's hotel overnight bag. Ten nightgowns for their one night. "You never know," she'd shrugged.

Sighing, Nancy plunged her hand into the bag with her eyes closed and pulled out a cream silk nightie edged in black lace. Not that she'd probably be wearing it that long... When she turned back to check her reflection, she was already blushing. Even though Ned had seemed a little reluctant in the limo, they had started making out there and had barely stopped long enough for her to change. Another wedding present from her father, their room was in a small expensive hotel, the kind with blackout curtains and outlandishly elaborate, certainly not complimentary, room-service breakfasts.

Ned had the lights off when Nancy stepped out of the bathroom, and she would have gone along with it, but it was her wedding night, and the tension between them had been building up for so damn long, and she'd definitely had too much to drink. Ned blinked quizzically at her when she flipped the lights back on.

"I want to see you," she explained, thinking of a hundred nights in the dark fumbling under the covers and learning him by touch instead of sight, but now it was no longer a sin, not something to be hidden anymore.

So he took her at her word and pushed his boxers off, and she was flushed and a little lightheaded at the sight of him, very aroused, blushing deep as she was. She took a few steps closer to him, and when she reached him he took the hem of her gown in his fist and stood, pulling it up very slowly, and her lips quirked in a smile as he tossed it to the floor. She'd probably been wearing it all of two minutes.

Then he framed her face in his hands and kissed her, turning with her so that the backs of her legs were against the bed, and his fingertips slid against her hips as he slipped them between her panties and skin, pushing them down. She returned it, her breasts against his chest, her hand buried in his hair as he pushed his tongue in her mouth and her panties dropped to the floor. She pulled back and blinked. Already they were going about a thousand times faster than they ever had before. She cautiously cupped her fingers and traced the tips up the underside of his shaft, and he moaned. Her lips curved up in a smile at the sound.

"Lay down," she whispered, not thinking about what was going to happen, not thinking about it, because even though she loved Ned, loved him so fiercely that she would rather hurt herself than hurt him, she was still afraid. He obeyed her, and she knelt beside him, brushing her fingertips lightly over his chest, his stomach, letting her gaze linger on his erect cock. He was holding his breath; he let it out in small gusts that matched her caresses, and when she ran her fingertips gently over his erection, down to his balls, he visibly shuddered, groaning.

"Nan," he choked out, but she silenced him with a kiss, one he could barely respond to because she was still touching him, and she could feel it, that his every nerve was centered on what she was doing to him. It felt immensely powerful. She trailed her kisses down his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipples, down his belly. Then she blew gently against the tip of his cock and almost giggled as it jumped slightly, as though urging her on. She'd never done anything like this with him before; she could practically feel him arch up as she slowly closed her mouth over the head of his cock, curious, wondering if he'd beg, wondering—

And then his hand was in her hair and something hot and thick and salty hit the back of her throat, and she froze, just for a second, just long enough for the nausea of her hangover, for her stomach full of champagne, for her gag reflex to kick in, and she scrambled off the bed, quick, making it to the bathroom just in time.

\--

Ned opened his eyes, panting, to hear his wife of barely a few hours retching in the bathroom. _But she was just,_ he thought, and then his eyes widened, and he rolled off the bed, still shivering.

She was holding her hair back, kneeling on the ice-cold tile in their bathroom, naked as the day she was born. The cool air had tightened her nipples, brushed gooseflesh over her arms, and she glared up at him as he tried to form an apology.

"God, Nan, I am so, so sorry—"

"Don't you ever, ever do that to me again," she said, then turned and spat angrily into the toilet. "God."

Her cheeks were wet. "I so did not mean for that to happen."

"What the hell?" She pushed herself to shaking legs and flushed, then rinsed her mouth out over and over, with palmfuls of water from the tap. Ned caught himself staring at her ass and jerked his gaze up again, guiltily. "That was disgusting."

"I—" Ned paused. "It was?"

She nodded, digging through her overnight bag and emerging with a toothbrush and toothpaste. "Yeah." She looked down. "I'm sorry. It just shocked the hell out of me."

He nodded as she started brushing her teeth vigorously. "Me too," he said. "I just... I've been thinking about you all day, and when you did that..."

She spat out a mouthful of lather and put some more paste on the brush before starting again.

"...I'm sorry," he finished, lamely.

She brushed her tongue and spat again before answering. "You couldn't just, I don't know, not come in my mouth?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know how seven years of pent-up sexual frustration works for girls, but for guys..."

She grabbed the hotel mouthwash and gargled thoroughly, then spat. "I guess," she said, wiping her mouth, "this just isn't the way I thought tonight was going to go."

"Me either."

"And I've just totally killed the mood."

He smiled. "Maybe we can just watch some TV for a while and wait for the mood to come back."

"No porn," she warned him, flipping off the bathroom light as she went back to their bed. "Don't even try."

"Deal," he agreed, sliding in next to her.

\--

They settled on an old movie. Nancy tried not to think about what Bess would say when she told her about this. It was so embarrassing that she decided Bess never needed to know. 

"Is it going to be that quick when we have sex?"

She had her head on his chest, her arm over his stomach, and their legs were touching in a way that would easily turn into more. He glanced down at her. "I don't think it's supposed to be," he said, a wry smile touching his lips. "Do you want it to be?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I think if we do things like we usually do, that maybe, yeah, that would be good."

"We're supposed to have hours of mind-blowing sex tonight. Sorry to break it to you."

"My mind has already been blown," she teased him. "You gave it your best shot."

He attacked her, pinning her to the bed as he tickled her ribs. "That was nowhere near my best shot."

She laughed helplessly under him, writhing, aware that he was taking every chance he had to cop a feel. When they paused, she leaned up and whispered into his ear, "You know, now that you're my husband and everything, I think you don't have to be sneaky anymore when you want to grab a breast. As long as it's mine," she amended.

He cupped his hand over one, gently, and she watched his face, amused at the expression of wonder that came over it. Then he ran his thumb back and forth over her nipple and she blinked slowly. "Can there be a rule that you don't wear bras anymore?" he asked softly.

"Only if you don't want them to stay this perky."

He shook his head. "Tough call," he replied, and leaned down, taking her nipple into his mouth. She buried her hand in his hair, closing her eyes as he suckled against it, her legs moving restlessly over the sheets as he moved to the other. Then he smiled and rolled back onto his back, and after a beat she moved back into his arms, resting her head back on his chest.

They couldn't keep their hands off each other for long. She walked her fingers down his stomach and Ned threw the covers back, letting her see exactly what she was doing to him. When her fingers came too close to his cock, he made a low growling noise in his throat and rolled on top of her, trailing kisses over her chest the same way she had done to him, but he spent much more time on her breasts and when he pulled back after finishing the second one she found she already had her knees bent, legs open underneath him, had done so without any of the horrible self-consciousness or fear she had been feeling whenever she thought about tonight. He kept his gaze on her face as he slowly traced his fingers down over her belly, straight for the ready warmth between her legs, and she arched hard underneath him when he found her clit.

"Are you nervous, baby?" he breathed, as her mouth fell open, but his gaze stayed locked with hers and she couldn't turn away. She nodded, sighing as she moved against his touch, as his fingers slipped lower, curling up inside her. This was familiar, they had done all this before, he had touched her under the covers until she was whimpering and spent, and she had touched his cock, under the covers, in the dark, until he was panting her name and she had felt the warmth of his climax on her stomach.

Thinking of that, thinking of the way she knew, she reached for him and Ned went rigid, his fingers fluttering between her thighs as his cock jumped against her cupped palm. "No," he groaned, more to himself than to her, and as he pushed her hand away he reached up and kissed her, hard, and she brought her legs up so that her knees brushed the sides of his hips. He stopped touching her and she growled in frustration, bucking her hips up against him hard so that he gasped.

Then he rolled onto his back again, with her straddling his hips, but he kept kissing her, hard and soft, light and deep. She felt him squeeze her ass and kept grinding herself against his hips, wishing that he'd finished what he started, that he'd let her come.

"Nan," he whispered in her mouth, and when she pulled back he pushed her up so that she was standing on her knees over him, and then he sat up. He slipped his fingers between her thighs again and she closed her eyes, rocking down against him, but as quick as she did he was gone, and then she felt it, the tip of his cock, just between her thighs, just touching where his fingers had been.

She opened her eyes and he was gazing at her, his hands light on her hips. "Just relax," he whispered. "Just do what feels good to you."

In answer she led his hand back to her clit and he chuckled, but he started stroking it again anyway, in a slow alternating rhythm. "What about you?" she managed to choke out, curling her fist around his cock and gently pulling up, shivering as she measured his length, felt his breadth.

"I'm just glad you left the lights on."

She laughed under her breath, then let her knees slowly slide apart as she guided him just inside her, tracing the tip of his cock just over her lips before she slowly urged him between. His thumb stilled on her clit and he gently pressed her open, pushing her down to him with his other hand.

She blew out her breath in a long trembling sigh. "It's going to hurt."

"Maybe it won't," he said lightly. "Or not as much as you think. You're really wet right now, and that's supposed to help."

"Supposed to help? Have you been reading books about how to do this?" She put a tentative rock in her hips, gratified when he had to gasp in a breath before answering.

"Something like that," he returned. "You can go fast or slow, however you need to, however deep..."

Giving his cock one last stroke, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts in his face. He flicked a nipple with his tongue and she sighed in pleasure, rewarding him by letting her knees slide apart a little further, taking him just a little further in. She knew how he felt when her fist was cupped around him. Inside, his cock felt enormous, thick and tight.

He started fondling her clit again, panting against her collarbone. "I love you," he murmured, and she felt him jerk impatiently under her as she pulled back for another slow thrust.

"What if you come before I do?" she breathed, letting out a low moan as her hips sank down, his cock pushing between her thighs.

"I'm already doing integrals in my head," he grunted in response, and then, somehow, his thumb found the rhythm against her clit, the one that always seemed to coax her orgasm. She shuddered and buried her face against his shoulder, her mouth opening as her hips jerked their own instinctual rhythm, and his thumb was going faster and she had only taken half his length, but her toes curled and she screamed silently into his skin as the quick tight clench started between her thighs and he cried out, because he had never felt it like this before, because she had never felt it like this before. She clawed at his back, begging him to stop, begging him to never stop as he quickened his thumb against her clit until it was almost just vibration, and he kissed her shoulder, her hips moving in short frantic thrusts against his cock as he came.

"Integrals?" she mumbled into his neck, when she could speak again.

"Yeah," he panted, sliding his arms around her hips. "It was that, or name the 1981 Yankees starting lineup, by batting average."

"Of course," she replied, both of them cringing as she slowly dismounted him. "Oh... oh shit."

They both looked down, and then he glanced back up at her face. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," she answered, slowly. "I feel sore. Are you okay?"

"Okay does not begin to describe," he answered, pushing himself over to the side of the bed. "Come on," he said, offering her his hand.

\--

He'd made her bleed.

He'd known it was possible, probable, given how cautious their fumblings were, given their honesty with each other, but that didn't make it any better, as he rinsed off his dick. She was sitting on the counter beside him, and her knees were tight together, her nipples still puckered tight. So far they had spent the majority of their married life naked. He was thrilled. Except that she had bled, which made him feel ashamed and guilty anyway.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded, looking a little dazed. "Can we try it a different way next time?"

Ned laughed, finding one of the washcloths so he could dry himself off. "Maybe I'll even go down on you, if you promise not to blow my mind."

She smacked him playfully on the arm. "I think I'd like you on top."

"I think I'd like to be on top," he replied. "I can't think of much I wouldn't like."

On the way back to bed he turned off the television and the overhead lights, leaving them in darkness. She bumped against him clumsily as they slid back under the covers, and then she curled up against him, in his arms.

"I love you too," she said quietly.

He smiled, running his hand over her hair. "It didn't hurt you, right?"

She sighed against his chest and shook her head. "It gets better," she said, more to herself than him. "Besides, we can still just fool around sometimes."

"Sure," he said. "And I can relearn calculus in my head, and take a lot of cold showers."

She smiled, tracing her finger over his bicep. "If it had hurt, just a little less..." She sighed. "How long did you say it was going to be before you were going to go down on me?"

Ned emitted a burst of shocked laughter. "Are you already turned on again?"

"How long does it take you?"

"Longer than this," he laughed.

"How will I know you're ready?" She traced her fingers down his hip. "Will you just pop up again like a meat thermometer?"

Ned groaned, rolling on top of her. "You're really going to have to work on not killing the mood," he told her, silencing her with a kiss.

"You just need more of a sense of humor about it," she chided him.

"Says she who almost killed me when I got just a little bit overexcited..."

"Hey," she protested. "Besides, shouldn't you have been doing calculus then?"

"Calculus, my dear," he said, kissing her again, "cannot stop a tidal wave. But next time I will be glad to warn you."

"Next time," she scoffed. "I have post-traumatic stress disorder. I will need therapy."

"Couch therapy?"

"Therapy," she replied, bending her knee and rubbing the side of her leg against his hip, "that could be classified as... oral."

Ned smiled and kissed her, hard. "It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," she admitted. "So every night's going to be like this?"

"Yes," he said, solemnly. "And that's why we were married. So that every night could be like this."

"Then I love it already."


End file.
